


The Tides of Grief

by GabesGurl



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief, Have a Tissue Handy, M/M, Mourning, angsty, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabesGurl/pseuds/GabesGurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo mourns his lover and 'his' boys</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tides of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a happy story. Sorry. It’s about grief and Bilbo mourning for Thorin and ‘his boys‘ Fili and Kili. I’m having a rough go of things right now in my own mourning journey and this is a way for me to express everything. This might not be extremely coherent as I’m writing it through my own tears and my own pain. RIP to my dearest daughter.
> 
> Not Beta'd.

It wasn't often that Bilbo stopped to remember the past and the what-ifs any more. That’s not to say he didn't stop to think about Thorin or about his boys. He thought about them daily, small things that would make him smile and give him a warm glow in his heart.

He would remember how Kili’s grins would crinkle up his cheeks and his eyes would shine. Also the way Fili would laughingly trip his brother as they tried to sweep him off his feet into their arms for a hug. 

The Hobbit had never told them how much he treasured their doting, like he was a special family member to him. He'd also never admitted to them that he'd grown to think of them as his children, which was rather humorous as they were older than he was.

Oh how he missed them, and of course there was Thorin. He often thought about the feel of that strong chest at his back as he was cradled like something precious. The feel of the King’s hair tickled at the sides of his neck as he just sat with his love for a moment. The soft presses of lips against his and the gentle look in those amazing blue eyes.

Bilbo treasured these happy memories, held them close in his heart. His dearest loves were in his thoughts numerous times in the day, even as he was busy with Frodo.

Of course, there were those bad nights too. Some nights he sat at his table long after the sun had gone down and out of nowhere tears would be raining down his cheeks and sobs ripped from his throat.

The agony would hit and he would sob in pain as if his heart and soul were being crushed anew. He would stumbled to a small chest he had hidden under his bed and with trembling fingers and tears still pouring he would slowly go through his treasures.

So few items they were, but worth more than anything in his entire home. A couple of beads, Fili and Kili had presented him with them right before they entered into Mirkwood forest. He'd shoved them into his pocket not realizing how much he would come to treasure those tiny little trinkets. 

Putting the beads aside gently he reached back into his chest for his next treasure. A lock of Thorin’s hair, one of the few things he still had of his truest and only love. Ori, dear sweet Ori had slipped it to him right before the King had passed, murmuring that he had read it was tradition for Hobbits.

Very gently he brushed it along his chin before burying his head in his hands and letting his sobs out quietly. How was it possible for it to still hurt so? After all these years, why was it still so agonizing that he wanted nothing more than to curl up in the dark and die.

He sat there and let his pain out in the only way he knew how. Bottling it up didn't work he knew that all to well and had learned it early on in this hellish journey called grief. He didn't know how the other people in the world who’d lost families went on seemingly happy. Being happy was one thing, but how to get through the rough patches? Truthfully he was always surprised when he was able to smile again, as half his heart was dead and buried.

A he pulled the last item from his trunk he lost the fragile hold he’d gained on his emotions and buried his face into the blanket that had been made for him. He wasn’t sure who had done it for him, he suspected it was perhaps Lady Dis but after he’d been in the Shire a year after the battle Nori had showed up on his doorstep with a folded lovingly stitched together blanket, made from a few pieces of clothing he recognized from all three of his Dwarves.

It was on these nights Bilbo felt the worst. As he gently put everything back into his trunk he took the blanket and curled upon his bed holding it to his chest. Letting the tears fall without end he let himself mourn in the darkness of his room.

As he drifted off to sleep, he could almost hear Thorin’s deep rumbling laugh and Fili and Kili’s teasing.

Memories were all he had now.


End file.
